


Coming Out

by yolklessegg



Series: Gay Sappy Shortstories [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, Angry Jaemin, Angst, Fluff, Homophobia, Lots of Crying, M/M, Realism, Sleepy Cuddles, Tears, Walking In On Someone, dont sue me, jisung is a brat, lots of metaphors, repeating pattern, taeyong isnt mean hes just a realistic leader, the manager is hella rude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yolklessegg/pseuds/yolklessegg
Summary: in which love is a metaphor for insanity and jaemins air conditioning is broken-my first love, and my last.-prompt: jaemin and jeno come out to nct-// i didnt expect this to get so many reads! thank you so much for the support! please comment any one/twoshots you would like me to write!-soy





	1. Coming Out

**Author's Note:**

> this is originally from my oneshot collection on wattpad
> 
> NONE OF THIS IS ACTUALLY EDITED SO MANY MANY MISTAKES SORRY
> 
> way too angsty for a one shot

-

Two years—it's not long. You age two years, you don't feel different. Your mind matures, you don't notice. Your heart will keep beating, your lungs will keep working. However, it all depends on when you age two years. The beginning—you're still a child, you move up grades. The end—you reach a closing, you die. The middle, however, has two parts. The middle will range from teenage years to adult years, though both have drastically different symptoms of age. During the adult years—you become more stressed, you have more on your hands. During the teenage years—you fall in love.

See, a two year margin is small, yet enough for a small seed of chemistry to bud and bloom into a beautiful, thorn-laced relationship. To fall in love, you mustn't defy the laws of gravity and fall out of it. For, to get out of it, you must climb out, dirty your nails if you must. It's a treacherous journey; the walls of love are made of smooth marble, not carved, not cut. How ever will you get out if your hands are constantly clammy because you're nervous when he's around? Won't you go deaf with the sound of your heart echoing through the halls? Admit it, it's hard to be around him. It's hard not to smile. He knows you too well, he knows your weakness—it's him. One glance, just the slightest of eye contact, made your throat swell, your skin erupt in a layer of needles and heat. He knows what to say, he knows where to touch, he knows where to look.

It burns, but you take the dive into your own hell. He watches you slowly melt into puddles, he meddles with your brain; you let him. He turns you into a forest fire. You're ash, but the fire burns bright, brighter each day. It scorches your throat, it leaves marks on your skin, your heart, your mind. But you love it. You love _him._

"I love you," Jeno speaks, though his mind is elsewhere.

With that, Jaemin lets out a soft reply, words connecting as if the missing part of a friendship necklace, "I love you too."

The night was calm, moon softly grazing the hardwood floor as the two boys rested on the small bed, sheets messily clumped at their feet. They hold each other, worries crossing their minds quickly swept away by the thumb resting on Jaemin's hand, smoothly moving back and forth. Though the summer air moved through the room, they held each other close, afraid the other will fall, though in reality, separation was less of an issue than it seemed.

"They'll call us down soon, you know? Do you want them to ask why you're wearing my shirt?" Jaemin lets out a small chuckle, his croaky voice filling up the sticky air. It wasn't loud, yet it didn't quite reach a whisper. It wasn't soft—in no way was Jaemin's voice the _soft_ you'd imagine. It was imperfect, but Jeno felt waves upon waves of serenity wash over him.

You need to be in deep to manage to see the oceans in Jeno's eyes. More often than not, you'd see stars. Don't be fooled, however, these are merely the lights of boats and ships and lighthouses that reside on the soft waters in his eyes. They're always alit, igniting his eyes in a blinding light when he smiles.

Jaemin was a match. It seems unlikely, very, but with a single strike, he lights Jeno's skin on fire. Jeno's an ocean, it's impossible, but so is the love between two members, two celebrities, two male, South Korean icons.

It hurts, both the fire and the guilt. It's more than one can bear. Jeno's heart is constantly a drum, beating in his chest with loud thumps. He can't be seen with Jaemin, he doesn't want to be. He knows the damage Jaemin can cause by merely speaking, walking, looking. It's dangerous, but in the end, they both take the risk.

Two years is enough for one flower to bloom, and that flower is beautiful, but it mustn't be seen by the human eye.

"I don't care. It's comfortable," Jeno mumbles, turning onto his back, cooler, fresher air filling his lungs.

"Come on now, take it off." Jaemin couldn't help but smile, sitting up slightly, looking down at the shorter boy that lay beside him.

"I won't. You'll have to take it off my dead body." With that, Jeno's lips quirk up into a smile, looking up at Jaemin with daring yet, seemingly so, innocent eyes.

"Is that a challenge or a suggestion?" Jaemin is now fully sitting up, his back flat against the wall.

Jeno's eyebrows dip slightly, yet he returns the action with a grin.

"You would die for my shirt, not me?" Jaemin dares.

"I would."

"Would you?" Jaemin moves his knee to the other side of of Jeno's body, hovering over the smug-looking boy.

"I would." The older watches with steady eyes as Jaemin advances over him.

By now, the grin on Jaemin's face had grown into a mischievous smile, trailing his hands down under the shirt, then up to the curve of Jeno's waist before pressing down slightly, looking for the reaction he wanted. "Would you?" his voice was no longer dipped in hush, but in children's folly.

"Jaemin!" Jeno exclaims as he feels the tips of Jaemin's fingers, pressing and moving, kissing his skin in soft, yet painful tickles.

Soon enough, the topic at hand was long forgotten and engulfed entirely by the laughter of both parties, voices filled with the bliss and joy that was once placed with serenity and calm.

Using this chance, Jaemin quickly slips the shirt over Jeno's head, throwing it off to the side.

"Asshole!" Jeno exclaims, trying to push the stronger male off him, only to end up, on instinct, kneeing Jaemin in the place it hurt most.

The action easily made Jaemin stop what he was doing and instead made him collapse back onto the bed, letting out loose profanity he'd get punished for using outside the dorm.

After calming down from the attack, Jeno came to his senses and shot up, looking at the boy that lay with his eyes squeezed shut. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" He apologizes, not knowing what to do to help Jaemin.

Jaemin, groaning both in pain and annoyance, grabs the skin of Jeno's forearm and pulls him down, resulting in the slight collision of their lips. The kiss was light, messy, and innocent—bliss. Jeno found himself smiling at the assertivity of his lover, feeling absolute ecstasy because with every breath he took, his lungs were filled with the scent of him, the scent of home. Jaemin was his home, he didn't need anything else.

"Jeno-hyung! Taeyong-hyung's calling you down for dinner. Have you seen Jaem—" The two, once a whole, part quickly, in a panicked manner. With wide eyes, Jeno turns to stare back at the doe-eyed gaze of their younger. Jisung's hand slides off the doorknob in an animated manner, and quickly, he recedes back down the hall.

Words can hurt, but silence is deafening.

Quickly, the distance between Jeno and Jaemin grows, the older of the two quick to find the first step of the ladder that stretched from the floor to the bed. Wordlessly, the two exchange a worrisome glance, and Jeno finally slips on his own shirt, which hung neatly on the desk chair once before. He moves to walk through the door, Jaemin following close by.

Suddenly, the oxymoron of deafening silence didn't seem so ridiculous anymore.

Entering the dining room, they're met with the sight of nine men sitting at the set table, already eating and chatting as if the absence of two dreamies went overlooked.

"There are you are." Taeyong looks up from the table, holding up the plate which held the dinner. "Chicken." He smiles, but neither could force a smile onto their lips.

Out of nervousness, Jeno kept glancing in the direction of their maknae, who, now had stopped chatting with the other members. Out of the twelve that sat there, a fourth was silent. The meal didn't leave the table as quickly as it usually does, a sixth of the twelve finding it harder to shove food down their throats with the sudden weight of being caught.

However, through all the self-bashing and guilt, Jaemin braided his and Jeno's fingers together under the table without any regret or hesitation. He can feel the thick cloud of thoughts that hovered over his lover, and he wanted to be the wind that could chase that cloud out.

That confidence and boldness slipped away, as did his fingers, when he watched Taeyong stand with his plate, Jisung following soon after. With that, a domino effect erupted, causing Jaemin to stand, then Jeno. The two followed the other pair into the kitchen. There was a certain feeling of urgency that was mutually exchanged between the two, as if mentally agreeing on a scenario they didn't want to happen.

Pushing the swinging door to the kitchen open, Jaemin and Jeno stood as if the elephant in the room. Both Jisung and Taeyong turn to the boys who had just walked in, but it seemed it was too late. Taeyongs eyebrows were furrowed, and his eyes rounded and confused. Jisung, admittedly, looked guilty to a degree, though the emotion only showed slightly on the still, emotionless features of their youngest.

The tension in the room felt too thick to breathe through—it was evident through the heavier breathing of Jaemin. Fuck deafening silence. You want more of it, but you can't help but feeling the anxiety on your skin, trailing up your arms, to your shoulders, your neck, till it swallows you whole.

Taeyong breaks it. "What's going on?"

Jaemin swallows and, with thinner patience, opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Jeno—an unexpected disruption.

"I'm sorry." Though it had been an expected action of the latter, it still shocked Jaemin that Jeno had given up so easily.

What didn't help was the silence that followed after, beckoning Jeno to go on. "I—we're sorry. We know it's n—not—" He couldn't help up stumble on his words. They were stuck in his throat and, honestly, it felt as though if he forced them out, tears would spill along with them.

Silence.

"It was an accident," was all Jeno managed to utter out before silent tears spilled down his cheeks. He was never a cryer, always an optimistic person. Every optimistic person breaks; Jaemin made him weak.

"An accident?" Jaemin turns to Jeno, his short temper awakening a spark of frustration within him, less for his partner and more for the two that stood in front of him, wordlessly making the one he loves most cry. "It wasn't an accident. None of it was. It can't be. You'd be an idiot for thinking so."

All of them—Jisung, Jeno, Jaemin—expected Taeyong to speak after the slight disrespectful outburst Jaemin had expressed a moment ago, but he remained silent, expecting, his expression troubled—yet still.

And so, Jaemin presses on, ignoring the tugging at his sleeve. "It's against the rules, isn't it? Dating someone when you aren't a veteran idol? Being romantically involved with a _man_? A member of your own group?"

His eyes flicker down to the sight of Taeyong swallowing, watching as the shorter man shifted his weight to the other foot. 

It was a sign of annoyance, and both knew it'd be best for both of them not to say anything further. Jaemin doesn't listen to his mind. He was always led by his heart.

"Hyung, I'm sorry. I—we'll hide it. No one will know, not even the members." Jaemin's voice cracks, but he doesn't care. All of his anger has faded into fear, worry of the reaction of their leader, the elder. However, buried under all of the negative emotions, there was a spark of hope, knowing that Taeyong had always been accepting of things.

"No," Taeyong finally says, shocking the others that occupied the room. "Absolutely not."

"Wh—what?" Jaemin stutters, his mouth slightly agape from the blank, assertive answer Taeyong had given.

"It's strictly forbidden for non-veteran idols to conform to relationships outside or inside the group. Same-sex relationships are frowned upon in South Korea. If this gets out, it will risk the entire group, perhaps the entire company." Taeyong's expression has no emotion in it, his eyes are unreadable. "I'll have to ask you to break this off, or else I'll have to inform the manager of your immature behavior."

Finding it useless the argue with Taeyong, Jaemin turns his attention to Jisung, who, through all of this, remained silent, small. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you? At all?" His breathing was erratic, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, anger, and disappointment in both his dongsaeng and his hyung. His eyes were clouded over in tears, brimming his eyes. Like a dam, his eyelashes gave their all to try to stop them from falling, yet, all dams will break eventually, and tears dot his reddened, flushed cheeks.

"Jaemin, Jeno, I advise you talk this out or else I will have to talk to our manager about this," Taeyong speaks up again, but Jaemin wasn't having it.

"That's it? We break off what we have and, what, that's it? That's all? We're back to being the same old NCT?" Now, not caring about the eyes, the idea of it, Jeno grabs onto Jaemin's hand, squeezing tightly, before looking up into his eyes, a soft eye-smile causing more tears to spill down and refresh the rivers that had dried on his cheeks.

Though he doesn't want to, Jaemin forces his eyes away from Jeno's, looking back at the two in front of him, about to speak, before he's interrupted by Taeyong.

"Jaemin, Jeno, please go back to your dorms. We'll talk about this tomorrow morning."

And that was it. They couldn't talk back, or, so to say, no words came out. Neither could speak, dismayed with the actions of their once-respected elder, the once-understanding, open-minded leader. Jeno was the first to act. He grabbed onto Jaemin's hand tighter, pulling him out through door and into the dining room once again. Jeno didn't once stop to look into the pitying, the confused, the ashamed eyes of his members, though he knew Jaemin's eyes wouldn't be able to keep away.

It was a terrible feeling, being found out when you're most vulnerable, most in love. You can break it off, but the rabbit-hole of love remains. The walls, they're the same. And, like a drug, love, once taken away, comes with the symptoms of withdrawal. You ache, you burn, you cry, you scream, you want more. You don't miss something truly till it's taken away. Flowers wilt, but more will bloom. A flower doesn't need two years to bloom. A flower needs times to regrow, but it's essence never fades. Eyes don't stop looking, smiles don't fade, words don't silence.

He was your first love, he was your last. Make sure it doesn't change.

-

 


	2. Coming In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is no smut or implied smut in the whole story so please don't jump to conclusions
> 
> shitty dialogue and writing
> 
> im too tired to preread this and i wrote this whole thing at 3 am so many errors
> 
> -soy

-

prompt: sequel

word count: 5,932

-

  Nothing will change. As much as you want it to, it won't. Memories can't truly be erased, neither can feelings. You were his first love, you were his last. You love _his_ eyes the most, you love _his_ smile the most. Nothing, no one can top _him_. You know that best, don't you? You feel that strong, compelling feeling whenever you get caught in his subtle gaze, whenever you're around him. For years you'd grin, ear to ear, knowing you caused the butterflies in his stomach, yet now, you sit in the quiet dorm, hearing nothing but the fluttering of the butterflies in yours.

It hurts, doesn't it? The butterflies you should've felt years ago are now laced with a venomous emotion that comes from separation and age. And you ask yourself—why? It's simple. You'd expected yourself to fall into that nebulous area between love and like, but you chose the wrong path. You can't climb out of love that easily, you can't force someone out either. You can believe you can, no one stops you from doing so, but once you assume you have a good chance of getting out, your feet slip, and you plummet back down to your memories, and you remember why you love him, why you can't let go. Feelings you'd desperately tried to suppress had burgeoned, leaving you vulnerable, bereft. You felt empty, yet your heart lurched, and you use that as an excuse to why you felt your throat swell whenever you looked at him. Then again, you come up with excuses. Your air conditioning is broken, that's why your heart is racing, and your palms are clammy—your head is spinning, and your throat is dry.

Not having to share a room with anybody was something Jaemin's members had always envied. Jaemin too had been happy with the arrangement, until the air conditioning in his room broke, and, being under the company they were, he wasn't given the chance to fix it. For a while, his members had made fun of him for having to sleep in a room, which, in the summer, held the temperature of 27 degrees, yet, not wanting to seem like the weaker of the group, he sucked it up and made no vocal complaints. Remembering it now, he recalls the moment Jeno refused to cuddle in Jaemin's room because it was too hot for skinship, and that marked the official day Jeno and Jaemin began to cuddle in Jeno's room. That was the day they started to make excuses, something Jaemin was good at. That was the day Jaemin and Jeno became "friends".

It was known amongst the members that Jaemin and Jeno had always embraced skinship and fan service, though to the members it stopped at friendship. Finding them huddled together on the same bed, holding each other close, was soon explained to be nothing more than a way to get away from the unbearable heat that resided in Jaemin's room. And with that, the two boys got clever, deciding to display friend-like affection towards either other when near the other band members, choosing each other as partners for games, hugging each other. They formed a push-pull relationship. It was all perfect—their own world, their own rules, and only they knew.

Once a bug gets in, its hard to get out. It spreads its wings, it spreads its words. Your little world is no more, brushed away by the simple stroke of a butterflies wing. In the end, you wish your air conditioning never broke. You start to connect strings that led up to that one moment, you lit the fuse and watched the relationship blow up, then pretended like you don't know what happened. Like all explosions, the fire burned bright, but it wasn't the same fire that you felt around him. This was different. It wasn't anger, not love, but it was similar to the scorching heat of the tears you shed, that slid down your cheeks and onto your arms. You've stopped eating, haven't you?

It was late, though Jaemin found himself sobbing in the hollow, morose comfort of his once-idolized, empty room. The walls were never liked this. They used to absorb his cries, his words, his moans, yet now, everything that hit the walls, bounced back at him, hitting him twice as hard, as the constant feeling pelleted his broken chest. _You are alone._

And for the first time in years, he felt truly alone.

The question is debated, how someone with so many friends, such a large family, could feel so alone. Some called it understandable, others—selfish. Jaemin felt that, he understood it. For the sake of selflessness, he didn't want to feel it. He wanted to smile again, he didn't want to feel like he was overreacting. There were days where he broke, where it hit him too hard. Being constantly put to work didn't help either. As days went on, he got less and less sleep, ate fewer and fewer meals. He still laughed, he still smiled, though convincing himself he was fine was the hardest of all. Others bought it, with difficulty, but the bubbly boy hid behind the tight, latex mask of rubber smiles and makeshift happiness.

Jaemin knew he was in love, but he didn't realize how much he was in love, until he was forced out of it. He didn't listen, he didn't conform. He stayed in love, but it couldn't be helped. He couldn't see Jeno anymore. He saw him in the halls, promotions, dinner, lives, games, everywhere, but he couldn't _see_ him. Jeno wasn't Lee Jeno, he was a fake, off-brand version, and Jaemin was the only one that saw that.

Jeno had changed, too. His eyes, they didn't smile like they once did. The boys were _awkward_ around each other, deeply entranced by past, present, and future feelings they had shared. It was painful to watch, painful to experience, but not one out-of-script word was shared between the two.

They had broken off with a hug and a sad smile. Nothing had changed, just distance. Feelings flourished, grew, burned, and neither could do anything about it. No one seemed real, not the members, not the managers. It was as if the whole world suddenly knew about something, and that melted off the mask that they had been portraying. Everything was different, but they tried to make it feel the same.

The August breeze blows past the curtains, filling up the room with a warm wind that seemed to calm the undying heat that resided in the room. Jaemin had moved his bed closer to the window in hope of cooling down in the summer, but the action also gave him a view to peer out of. On restless nights such as this, the boy would look out the window and calm himself; he would think. Now, it made him all the more sad, the freedom to be able to stare out into an empty city, cars hissing and growling as they passed, illuminating the features of Jaemin's face the street lights couldn't.

Averting his eyes, Jaemin stared into the darkness, flinching when a soft knock erupted through the room. Quickly, the boy wiped his raw eyes of tears, stepping onto numbed feet, padding towards the door in a lazy, unnerved manner. His hand landed on the doorknob, but the door was already being forced open. Disoriented, he steps back, latching his eyes onto an ocean. It filled him up; he could feel the waves lapping against the inside of his stomach. Oceans curve into crescents, making Jaemin want to spill completely, every emotion expelled, along with chemicals caused by pent up words.

His smile—Jaemin had missed it, because this time, it was real, true. Butterflies erupted, cutting him with sharp razor edges. _He can't have him._

"Why are you here?" Jaemin addressed the elephant in the room as he walks towards the bed that once seemed to absorb his tears and worries.

"You were crying," Jeno was never one to sugar-coat things with Jaemin. It was an attribute that Jaemin respected and liked, though he can't deny that his heart lurched when he heard those words.

"What?" Jaemin asked, though it's all clear. He was averting his eyes, and not from fear, but from shame. He didn't want to be seen crying, he didn't want to be known for crying. Truth be told, crying was a luxury he indulged in often.

"I heard you crying, Minnie. I couldn't stand it," Jeno said, the pet name rolling off his tongue before either could take it into account. Neither of them noticed, until they did.

Silence.

The bed groaned under Jeno's weight, emitting the only sound to be heard in the room. Jaemin looked down in confusion, expecting the older to leave.

"Sit," Jeno, as if in his own room, patted the spot next to him, and Jaemin complied.

Another silence.

"You should go sleep, Jeno," Jaemin stated, avoiding the older's eyes as if the moment he latches onto them, his lips would find a way to latch onto his as well.

Jeno's eyes bore into Jaemin, following down to the lump in his throat, which visibly bobbed from nervousness.

Onto Jeno's lips a smile danced, curving up with the simple bliss and happiness that Jaemin's aura brought. It was against the rules, but—what rules? Rules that were engraved into a board with chalk, simply brushed away by the pad of the thumb, brushed away by the bittersweet words—

"I missed you, Minnie," Jeno's smile turned melancholy.

You're not allowed to say that, not in Jaemin's mind. Jaemin was scared, he was falling to pieces with the presence of Jeno. It wasn't good for him, his morphine. He was an addict—addicted to the mere scent of salt-licked skin, smelling of earth and almonds. He was addicted to his coffee-ground eyes—deep, brown, enriched with the soils of a million years, walked upon by gods.

Jeno as a whole was an addiction—his body, voice, heart, presence.

"I—"

The symptoms of withdrawal are harsh. Heartache, headache, loss of appetite, drop in dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins, mild to extreme pain, and crying are all in the package. Warning: procedure may not always result in falling out of love.

"I've missed you, too," Addicts will always stay addicts at heart.

"I still love you, Jaemin."

What you're addicted to will always manage to come back, and it knows exactly where and what to hit to get you addicted again.

You'll try to look away, convince yourself if you hold out this temptation for a little longer, you'll get better at fighting your addiction.

If you believe that, why did you kiss him, you _stupid_ , dultish idiot?

Simple reasons, you say, but consequences aren't as simple.

Every emotion within them burst as if a dam had opened, or, more appropriately, crashed under the pressure. It was all there, a mutual signing of lips, a binding, an unspoken promise.

Jaemin wasn't thinking of excuses to tell Jeno like he thought he would. Instead, his mind was completely washed over in waves of relief and thoughts about how much he missed such a scene, such a sight. He held Jeno close, so close, as if the moment he lets go, Jeno will disappear from his arms, back into the ocean of distance and pain.

Overdramatic, it seems, but symptoms of withdrawal are much heavier than one might imagine, much more painful, longing. A breath of morphine can cause an addict's whole system to reboot, rejoice in long-awaited release.

Foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, soundless words were exchanged.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

-

The sun seeping in through the blinds covered the boys' bodies, coating them in a blanket of warm gold. It almost seemed unreal. To say it was ethereal was an understatement. Jaemin, being first to wake, rubbed his swollen eyes, proceeding to blankly stare around the room, until he felt the warmth of another beside him shift.

Looking down, his heart almost lept out of his chest. Having forgotten yesterdays events, seeing the love of his life lying in the same bed as him, stripped of his shirt and sweatpants, terrified Jaemin. Mind jumping to the worst, Jaemin began to shake Jeno lightly, trying to wake him, all the while his heart beat against his rib cage.

Finally, Jeno cracked his eyes open, squinting up at the boy hovering over him.

"Mm," he moaned, stretching out his back under Jaemin, "Good morning."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Jaemin deems the paranoia unnecessary, and sits up atop Jeno's legs. "Good morning," he says back.

"Let me go," Jeno murmurs, shifting under Jaemin's weight, trying to get out.

The playful side of Jaemin awoke, and as soon as Jeno had uttered those words, he'd made it his mission to annoy him as much as possible. He'd missed Jeno, his smile, laugh, voice, face, and so much, that looking down made everything see unreal.

For the first time in weeks, he was truly happy. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he wasn't uneasy. It was impossible adrenaline, coursing through his veins. You must spend your time with someone who makes you feel that way. Imagine having that happiness pulled away?

Eventually, Jaemin slid off Jeno's legs, who, in return, offered a groan and a 'finally'. Jaemin watched as the older shifted, scavenging the floor for his, or whoever's, shirt, which was inevitably thrown off last night due to the summer heat. A smile slid onto his lips, one that was there previously, yet was now dazed, tired, content.

"I love you," Jaemin mused, looking up at the dressing boy.

"Mm," Jeno hummed, tugging on a plain, black v-neck.

"I love you," Jaemin's tone turned into one similar to pouting.

"Mm," Jeno hummed louder, back turned to Jaemin.

"Say it back!" he whined, pressing his palm against his cheek, whilst jutting out his bottom lip.

Exasperatedly, Jeno turned around, padding towards the bed, then pushing Jaemin onto the covers. He crawled atop him, gazing down at the dumbfounded, pout-tainted boy, before planting a kiss atop the other's forehead, mumbling a soft, 

"I love you more."

The words made Jaemin groan in annoyance, knowing this will lead into another endless argument. With this, Jaemin pulled Jeno down onto his lips, ignoring the slight pain he experienced from bumping heads with him.

Bodies shifting in improvised choreography, Jaemin settled himself on top. They were dancers, swiftly moving, latching onto each other. They were one, a whole. It was _wonderful._

Like children playing, they laughed, smiled, teased, lips against one another; it was a mess, a playful, innocent mess.

"No, I love you more," Jaemin grinned, pressing light kisses along Jeno's jaw.

"Impossible. I love you most," Jeno retorted, daring Jaemin with his eyes.

Jaemin fakes a gasp, looking down at Jeno as if he'd said the most ridiculous thing, "can't be! I love you and need you as much as a fish needs water."

"Well—"

Both boys turn as the door opens, scrambling off each other and onto opposite sides of the bed, chests heaving with both loss of breath and panic. Again, it had happened, and in their worst moments—they were caught.

Jaemin gazed with a terrified expression—eyes blown open, lips slightly parted, cheeks painted pink—as Taeyong's hand slipped off the door knob, a click sounding through the otherwise silent room.

No one spoke. The party of two—with fear of aggravating the leader farther, Taeyong—lost in thought.

Eventually, the dreaded silence was broken with even more dreadful words, spoken only from the lips of the forsaken leader,

"Jaemin, come with me."

The younger swallowed down his fear, though it surfaced back up, twice as strong. With a nod, Jaemin slid off the bed, mindlessly tugging on a shirt that lay untouched on the desk chair, before stepping out of the room with Taeyong. Jeno was left alone in a heat-drunken room, terrified out of his wits.

Taeyong's words weren't laced in anger, or, really, in any emotion at all. Taeyong had a way with things. To say he was caring of the other members, would be an understatement. He did care—he cared about their jobs, reputation, well-being, and health. Jaemin knew that best, considering he had to take a leave for health reasons. But Taeyong was also easy to read. Though seeming quite emotionless to the public, the man had a tendency to express his words and emotions in facial expressions and tone. So when he used a calm, serene voice, members, Jaemin and Jeno, were jumping out of their skin. It's happened before, where a simple, expressionless tone caused seventeen active members to silence their talking.

There are times when silence hurts more than words.

Though it was early in the morning, a few others were already up, cooking breakfast, washing dishes, talking, arguing, blinking, breathing, living. It was a marvelous sight to look at, not so much when that sight is looking at you.

Eyes—they were everywhere. Two, four, six, eight, ten, all on the two that walked past.

_They knew._

It was an unspoken discussion, unspoken knowledge that was later reassured and reevaluated once Taeyong and Jaemin had left the kitchen area. Ravens—they were smart birds, but they talk a lot, they know a lot. Not all snakes must have feathers, but not all featherless creatures are snakes. Do you get it? I'm sure you don't.

Taeyong pulled Jaemin to the side, the younger boy wincing at the slight sting that the intensity of Taeyong's grip brang.

"How old are you?"

"What?" Jaemin asked, eyebrows furrowed, confused at what Taeyong was trying to get at.

"How old are you, Jaemin?" His tone was serious, eyes scolding and hard.

Lips tightened into a line, Jaemin warily answered, "nineteen."

"You're nineteen years old, Jaemin, but you can't grasp the concept of listening to your elders?" Taeyong queried, eyebrows pulled into a frustrated angle.

Jaemin, taken aback, stood dumbfounded in the center of the unused room, eyes glued to the floor. His stomach flipped in anxiety, not knowing what to say. In his mind, thoughts of embarrassment and regret surface, a nagging feeling telling him what he did was wrong. And, to Jaemin, it was. He started to see, regret, know, that because he kissed Jeno last night, he'd broken his nonconsensual promise to Taeyong. Taeyong was upset. Taeyong was right.

"We weren't doing anything, he just had something in his eye," back to excuses Jaemin went, thinking of the worst one he could, though, at the time, it seemed like the only one he had. What happened to the boy who stuck up for their relationship, though yelling at an elder was seen as disrespectful? He's gone, and so was his confidence. He was small, though taller than Taeyong. He was scared, though usually confident and loud.

"Jaemin, I won't tolerate nonsense," Taeyong, having replied in a serious tone, remained in an emotionless state.

Jaemin takes his bottom lip in his teeth, looking back up at his elder. His eyes stray, or, are caught off guard by another presence. They're met with oceans, dark oceans. The strange epiphany of strange metaphors is released, his body tenses. He shakes his head, signaling for the other to go, but the other steps forward and—

"Jeno, I asked you to stay inside," Taeyong speaks, his cold tone breaking the atmosphere to pieces. Jaemin wanted to cry—his throat thick, aching, tears wallowing in the rim of his eyes.

Though being the older, colder, of the two, Jeno was often most sensitive to negativity. He doesn't express publically, but the number of nights Jeno had fallen asleep, crying in Jaemin's arms, was worrying.

Jeno stumbled, stepped, and fell into Jaemin's arms. Arms curled around the latter, Jaemin stared up at Taeyong, almost pleading. It was his final cry, the last attempt.

It was silence.

Taeyong gave in.

"I'm not doing this to hurt anybody," he takes a sharp breath. "That was never my intention. I'm just doing what's best for the group."

"Best for the group?" Jaemin's voice was small. "I didn't realize there are sixteen members of NCT."

"Jaemin, that's not what I mean. You know it, I know you do," Taeyong said in a light, warning tone, knowing he'd upset the younger farther.

"No," Jaemin spoke, taking in a sharp breath. His arms tightened around Jeno, letting the older press his forehead on Jaemin's bared shoulder. "I don't know it. I've known you for how many years now? I've looked up to you since I was an actual child."

Taeyong, taken aback by Jaemin's disrespect and straightforwardness, stayed quiet.

"I see comments and jokes made by fans about how you're so caring to your younger members, but truthfully, I don't see it. I hope you realize caring for the group—is caring about all eighteen members, yourself included. Now, before I get a whole _lecture_ —" Jaemin spat. "—about how I've been disrespectful, know this. Jeno and I are human being, just as you are. We get tired, we have limits, we have needs, wants, and sources of happiness that we find in other people. These are basic human rights that we, even as idols with contracts, as idols who signed off their life and future to a group we might not even debut in, deserve. So what he's a guy, or he's my friend, or he's someone you know? So what if I get my contract cut, or if I bring down the company, bring down my own career? Do you have no trust in the people you spent so many years with?"

_Your air conditioning broke._

"Tell me this, hyung, have you ever been in love?"

_You aren't thinking straight._

Taeyong swallows, jaw clenched in visible annoyance and confusion.

"No. I've never been in love."

"Then how could you possibly know what it's like to be torn away from your lover?"

Jeno's chin dug into Jaemin's collar bone, enabling a sharp, searing pain to course through Jaemin's body, indicating Jeno wants Jaemin to stop talking. However, Jaemin just winced and lowered his shoulder, in hope the pressure would lessen and so would the pain. His eyes remained hard, an abundance of thorny roses blooming behind the brown glass that coated Jaemin's eyes.

"It's hell. It's worse than that. Imagine having to see them every single day because it's your job. Eat with them, smile with them, laugh with them, talk with them. Imagine having to pretend you don't love them, pretend you're happy, when your arms are getting thinner, because no one noticed you skipped supper," Jaemin's voice cracked, so did his image. "You wouldn't know what that's like at all."

Taeyong watched, eyes tracing the tears that were sketched along the cheeks of Jaemin's face. He felt guilt, true guilt. He was man, he had a heart—and it hurt. It all came at him at once, realization, compensation, sympathy, and empathy. Taeyong watched as children, people half a decade younger than him, held each other, protected each other, fought for each other.

Love was a miraculous, dangerous thing.

Taeyong held the bridge of his nose between his two fingers, trying to assess the situation as a leader and a friend. Mind flooded with mixed emotions, he stood with options weighing on his shoulders, possibilities, guilt. What he once thought was the right, proper decision, seemed like a painful, sadistic option, and a final answer was drifting farther and farther away. So many words were said, spilled, cried, that Taeyong couldn't even process or care about the informality of Jaemin's tone and vocabulary. Having been accustomed to a solid choice, Taeyong would have grabbed onto an option and swam with it. Now, mind muddied with guilt and regret, he was left drifting in a sea of never-ending consequences.

So, why think?

"Taeyong-hyung, why does it matter now? What are you scared of?"

"You two could get caught. It'll bring you and the company down."

"Don't you have trust in us? We might be younger, but we have wits," Jaemin said in a weak voice. "I don't get it. I just don't. Why does everyone care so much about us getting caught when we've been in a relationship for years? Who do you think hid it so well?"

Don't think, it makes things more difficult.

"Years?"

"Years."

Taeyong pressed his tongue against his top lip, mind clouded in so many thoughts, he couldn't think anymore.

Finally, with a loud sigh, Taeyong replied. "Fine. Do what you please, just leave me and everyone else out of it. Whatever happens is on you two. You're on your own from now on, don't expect my help or anyone else's."

The reply was cold, but enough.

Jeno shot up from Jaemin's arms, eyes raw from crying into the blonde's shoulder, though now angled from the arch of his eyebrows—confused.

"Seriously?" Jeno queried, clearing his voice of the gravel emotion filled his through with. The action and tone was a little unexpected for Taeyong, one who was expecting Jeno to be weak and fragile about the answer.

In fact, both boys were rather shellshocked. Eyes blown, both stares back at Taeyong like deer in headlights. The action made the older change in demeanor, eyebrows unfurrowed and raised.

"I'll have to tell the other members about this, but—" Taeyong pauses. "—I won't tell the manager."

"Thank you," Jaemin, yet again, looked close to tears as he took a bow towards Taeyong, who, again, was taken aback. "Thank you so much."

Jaemin didn't know why he was thinking him so vigorously, considering Taeyong has the person who had stripped his of happiness for weeks.

At times, you must be thankful for what you have.

-

"So, you're gay?"

"What?" Jeno exclaimed, looking at Donghyuck with wild eyes.

Jaemin grinned, pressing into his lover's side. Lips, curled in with deviousness and pride, press against Jeno's cheek—a loving, possessive gesture, followed by Jaemin resting his chin on Jeno's shoulder.

"He is," Jaemin answers for him, eyeing the expression Donghyuck wore.

"I didn't expect that from Jeno," Donghyuck muses, looking at the two in front of him. "I mean, I expected it from Jaemin, but Jeno..."

"Hey!" Jaemin exclaims, pulling his body from Jaemin in displeasure. He melts into a thoughtful look. "Well...I guess."

"How long?" Mark speaks up. "Have you been dating, I mean."

"Nice, Mark," Donghyuck hits his chest, the other bursting into light-hearted laughter. "As if we don't know what you meant. You're such a dunce sometimes."

"Sometimes? I'm older than you," Mark retorts, straightening his posture.

"Sorry. I meant always."

"Hyuck—"

"Three years. We've been officially together three years," Jeno cuts in.

"By the way you two argue, I'd say you were dating for four," Jaemin adds.

"I wouldn't date a guy, let alone another member!" Mark barks back.

"What's wrong with it?" Jeno's voice was small amongst the quarrel, but grabbed attention nonetheless.

Noticing Mark's silence, Donghyuck pressed on, "yeah, what's wrong with it, Mark?"

"Nothing! Nothing. It slipped out."

"Then, you'd date me?"

"No!"

"Why not?" Donghyuck whined. "Am I not good enough?"

"No! I don't like you, is all," Mark groaned, growing tired of the perstering of his peers. He stands.

Donghyuck clasped a hand over his chest, sucking in a sharp breath, "you don't like _me_? Impossible. Everyone _loves_ me."

Jaemin and Jeno sat, watching the commotion unfold in front of their eyes. Fingers subconsciously brushing against one anothers, they watched as Mark flicked Donghyuck's forehead and walked away, leaving a whining and complaining boy behind.

"He's so mean to me. Does he not value me as a friend?" Donghyuck whined, directing the question to the air, less than to the boys.

"I'm sure that's just the way he is," Jeno shruged, leaning into Jaemin's touch once again.

"Get him drunk—I'll sure he'll loosen up right away," Jaemin grins, earning a slap on the thigh from Jeno.

"I wish—oh?" Donghyuck words were cut short by a small disturbance of the door.

"Can you get it?" Jeno whined, twirling a strand of Jaemin's red-gold hair between his fingers, dark ocean eyes peering into soft caramel. "please?"

"God, you two are so full of it," Donghyuck groaned, pushing himself off the couch. "How did you even stay a secret for this long? You two can't give it a break."

The two barely listen as the older stood and walked towards the dormitory's door, too lost in earthy shades of brown, cool and warm undertones shining through as silver and gold. Jaemin smiled, lips curling upwards into a lazy grin. Like rose petals, lips fall together, a small brushing, a bruising—bliss.

"Na Jaemin."

Jaemin's skin grew cold at the voice, the tone used. He began to pull away, separate himself in any hope of taking it back, making an excuse. His heart was breaking in his chest, beating, flitting, cracking piece by piece.

Jeno didn't let him move. He grabbed a handful of Jaemin's shirt, pulling him back to lean against his forehead. Eyes lidded, breaths of words were exchanged.

"Jaemin?" Jeno whispered, eyes darting back up to search his.

"Why is always me? It's always me...It's always me..." Jaemin cursed himself out in a hushed tone, closing his eyes. Seconds later, they shoot open once again, gasping as he's pulled away from his lover.

"What the hell is this?" the manager spits, his tone not nearly as soft as Taeyong's was.

Fear—it's something you feel often, though you don't always notice it. It's the pestering anxiety at the pit of your stomach, the butterflies you get. It's everything. It's what you're built out of, what you couldn't survive without. It's petrifying. Fear itself is absolutely terrifying, that just by hearing it's name, you shake, you break, and cry.

"N—no. It was an accident, I—I swear," Jaemin stuttered out, staring blankly at his hands as if they'd tell him where he messed up.

_The beginning._

"No!" Jeno exclaimed, voice quivering, yet nonetheless powerful, making the four other men in the room flinch, the manager's eyebrows twitch.

"No, Jaemin," Jeno stared up at Jaemin, ignoring the eyes of bystanders. "It's not just an accident anymore. It's over, you have to tell yourself that. It's been over since Jisung, since weeks ago."

Jaemin stared back in confusion, tears lining the edge of his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing but pained choked came out. He tilted his head up to look into his managers confused eyes, then squeezed his eyes shut, letting tears run down his cheeks.

_Nothing changed._

"I mean, face it. We aren't given the same treatment as people. We can't eat, sleep, love. We signed off our lives and happiness when we signed those papers," The boy weeped, looking up at Jaemin with pleading eyes.

_Nothing will change._

"Come on," his voice cracked. "Say something. Anything. _Anyone_!" Jeno broke out into a scream, looking at the men that stood before him.

"Jeno, don't say that. We don't treat you like animals," the manager said in a softer voice, for when you upset a child, you're frowned upon.

"Exactly! That's exactly what we are. Animals. Nothing more, nothing less."

_As much as you want it to, it won't._

"Some fucked up coming out story this is," Jeno's lips curve into a sick smile, the back of his hand coming up to wipe the tears he'd poured out.

_Memories can't truly be erased, neither can feelings._

"Anyone. Please say something." He went to pleading, looking from his lover, to the manager, to Taeyong, to Donghyuck.

"You—you don't mean it, do you?" Jaemin stumbled over his words, taking in a shaky breath as he musters up courage to look Jeno in the eyes again. "I love you so much—please don't—" Jaemin turned to the manager, eyes blows and tear glazed, red, wet, opalescent. "—please don't make us. Please, please, please."

The manager freezes once the attention was on him again. He wasn't as strict as Taeyong, though he wasn't as compassionate.

It was time for the adults to talk, isn't it?

"Let them. NCT will fall apart without them happy—it'll destroy them," Taeyong explained, walking to the manager with such care, you'd think he was to defuse a bomb.

"Taeyong-ssi, you know I can't. It'll bring down the whole company if this _thing_ gets out," the manager explains.

"Sir, they've been able to hide this relationship for three years, it's a small possibility this will get out. This is brutal," his tone picks up slightly.

Growing annoyed, the manager furrows his eyebrows and turns to Taeyong, "yet, somehow, I, you, and the rest of NCT found out. It doesn't matter if they're good at hiding it, it'll get out, and it'll be over for us. For everyone."

"What do you suggest?"

The manager turns back the the boys on the couch, who, now both stare back at him with melancholy eyes.

"Jaemin-ah, how's your back?"

"What?"

"I asked you a question, answer it."

"It's been fine, I haven't had any issues with it, sir."

"Hm," the manager hums, glancing over to Jeno, before back to Jaemin. "Jaemin, I'll call your parents and discuss this with CEO, but I'll have to send you have home for a while. Health reasons." he turns around.

"What?" Jaemin exclaims, followed by the shocked expressions of the other occupants of the room.

"We'll have a meeting about this later this week. I'm sorry it had to end up this way," the manager sighed, grabbing his file from the counter. "I'll excuse you both from the _V-Live_ scheduled for today. Sort this out. Jaemin—pack."

And just like that, it was over.

It was unreal. Fairy tales don't end like this.

Silence drowned the room once again.

"So that's it?" Jeno croaked, looking up at Taeyong with guilt-barren eyes. "That's how this all ends? Send Jaemin away for a few months, lose money due to his absence, then, have the risk of being exposed for lying when fans see Jaemin walk out of his apartment with his mother to get fucking milk?"

"Jeno, I've never had to ask you before, but please watch your tone," Taeyong warned, but took his words into account.

"I've never had to ask you before, but please be patient!" Jeno snapped, tears, once again dripping from his eyes.

"I'm sorry for what had to happen. I want you two to be happy. This situation is completely out of my control." Taeyong's formality and coldness broke, making him sit by the two boys, pulling them into an unfortunate embrace. "I'm so sorry."

Fake.

It felt like plastic.

Alone.

As if they were on their deathbeds, all members left the two boys alone to sulk, to love, to give a farewell. It was cold.

"I'm sorry, Jaemin," Jeno spoke, scooting closer to the said boy.

The tears, shamelessly rolling down Jaemin's cheeks, never seemed to cease, enabling Jeno to lean over and kiss them away. Jaemin cupped the latter's cheeks, holding him close to his body. It was the thought, the nagging, unsettling thought, that this may be the last time they can do this so openly, kept them together, pressed, fearless.

"For what?" Jaemin asked, looking down into his lover's lap. "For giving me the best time of my life?"

Jeno smiled at the response, causing Jaemin to mirror the action. "For not being able to make the time last longer."

Melancholy broke through the atmosphere again, though their smiles didn't falter.

"Jeno, I love you."

_He was your first love,_

"I love you, too."

_He was your last._

_Make sure it doesn't change._

-

 


End file.
